The Tiny Insignificant Big Things
by Mont Girl of Lumatere
Summary: In which a heavily pregnant Sigrid decides to test how ready Fili is for the arrival of their child. -A fun little angsty one-shot written as a continuation of Dare You To Move- (Figrid centric with mentions of Kiliel)


**The** **Tiny** **Insignificant** **Big** **Things**

 _"Be_ _prepared_ _for_ _the_ _worst_ _my_ _love_ _,_ _for_ _it_ _lives_ _next_ _door_ _to_ _the_ _best_ _."_

 _-Melina Marchetta, Finikin of the Rock_

The song of the mountain is quiet at first, but its rhythm thrums deep in the blood of dwarves. It begins when the first rays of dawn strike the stone and scatter the fog, its warmth enticing the tufts of moss to unfurl their tendrils and shed icy blankets. Their dew splashes upon the rock and soon the Ravens take up the call, as somewhere deep within the Mountain's depths the blood of the dwarves starts to sing, calling them to harken to the new day. But the Queen of Erebor is no dwarf, and the stone does not carry a tune to her ears.

Nevertheless, Sigrid sat upright upon her bed in the early hours of the morning, watching the steady rise and fall of her husband's chest, a small frown pursing her lips.

Many a morning she would have been quite happy to watch the unfurrowed brow, and the soft smile. Content to smother her laughter when the ends of his moustache lifted as he let forth a great rumbling snore. But not today.

She prodded him gently. "Fíli."

He mumbled incoherently and shifted, turning away from her to bury his face in a pillow.

Sigrid's frown deepened. "Fíli." She repeated, louder this time.

He lifted his head sluggishly, one eye opening just fraction to peer blearily up at her.

With a hand to the pronounced roundness of her stomach, the queen of Erebor drew a deep breath. "It's time."

Her husband was awake in an instant and sitting upright beside her.

"Truly Sigrid, love?"

She nodded.

His eyes grew wide.

Shoving the drapes aside, sleep-ruffled hair half plastered to the side of his face, Fíli sprang up from the bed and made to stride for his clothes. Unfortunately, in his haste his left leg had become entangled in the bedsheets and he fell, hitting the stone floor of their chamber hard.

"Fíli!" Sigrid attempted to stand up but found that she was unable to do so at any great speed. The amount of maneuvering necessary to lift the weight of both herself and the child she bore from their bed took an encumbering amount of time.

"I'm alright." Fíli groaned, gingerly getting to his feet. He winced as he inspected his knees and then picked up the bedsheets and tossed them into a pile in the corner where they could do no more damage.

Sigrid made a grunt of satisfaction as she was at last successful in leveraging herself into a standing position.

But catching sight of her, Fíli cried out in alarm. "What are you doing?"

Sigrid looked incredulous. "Me? I'm trying to make sure that you haven't done yourself some serious damage!"

"Don't be ridiculous." He limped around to her side of the bed, placed his hands firmly on her shoulder and steered her back to the pillows before standing back and pointing a stern finger. "Don't move."

"But-"

"No."

Sigrid huffed, folding her hands across her belly as she slumped back into the pillows to watch as Fíli tore madly about their chamber.

"Do you feel any pain, or dizziness?" He asked, tugging off his night clothes and pulling on a fresh pair of trousers.

"Not dizzy, and experiencing an appropriate amount of pain."

Fíli hopped on the spot as he tugged on a boot. "Oin said that when the birthing starts you need to keep breathing evenly. Are you sure that you're breathing?"

"I can assure you that as far as I am aware, I'm still breathing." She replied with dryly.

"Good. That's good." Fíli muttered, looking distractedly about the room. He began tossing aside more garments and accidentally knocked a particularly old volume of the leather-bound annals of Erebor from the settee to the floor. Sigrid was infinitely thankful that the nearby candle bracket had burn itself out overnight.

However, when his next victim was a stack of important correspondence from the Iron Hills, Sigrid decided to intervene.

"Have you lost something?"

Fíli was now rummaging through a studded wooden chest. "I can't find Fang."

Sigrid looked puzzled. "Who?"

The look Fíli gave his wife was one of utter betrayal. " _Fang_." He pushed back the sleeve of his leather jerkin to display the empty scabbard at his forearm.

"How could I forget." Sigrid muttered through gritted teeth. "But I suppose I'll just have to clamp my knees together and wait until you're ready."

Fíli didn't seem to hear her.

"Are you certain that you're not forgetting something else, or someone?" She all but implored.

 _Perhaps_ _the_ _midwife_ _._

Fíli paused in the act of demolishing their chamber, frowning as he processed her question. And then he clapped a hand to his head and swore.

Sigrid sent a silent prayer to the Valar, relieved that something _finally_ seemed to have penetrated the irrational mind of her normally rational husband.

Limping towards the doorway, Fíli paused to press a quick kiss to her forehead and then to her swollen belly. "Promise me that you'll both stay put until I return."

This confused Sigrid. Oin had, after all, been given temporary quarters just down the corridor from theirs, and a bell and rope had been rigged up to run between their chambers. All Fíli would have to do would be to step outside their door and pull the rope for the loud chimes to alert the deafened healer as well as the rest of the mountain.

Leaning forwards, she called out to her husband's retreating back. "Where exactly are you going?"

But Fíli was already beyond the door when he called back over his shoulder. "To get Kíli."

 _Kíli_ _?_

Sigrid stared after him, utterly flabbergasted.

 _But_ _what_ _about_ _Oin_ _?_

In resignation she slumped against her pillows and looked down at her stomach. "Well I suppose that's what we get for trying to surprise him first thing in the morning."

Sigrid was, in fact, not in labor. She had sprung what Tauriel had termed a 'training session' on Fíli in anticipation of when her time truly came. Initially she had been skeptical, her husband was a King, and a proven warrior after all; he had kept a level head in the face of far more demanding and dire situations than this.

But honestly.

 _Kíli_ _?_

Had she indeed been in labour, the most Kíli would have able to do would be to knock some sense into her husband and get Oín himself.

Although, if what Tauriel had recounted about Kíli's own turn was true, and Sigrid had a grim suspicion that it was, she would have been faced with one somewhat hysterical brother and one unconscious brother, neither of whom would do anyone much good.

And yet she also thought that she knew exactly why, at that moment, Fíli had run for his brother, and she could not begrudge him for it.

"I think he's afraid." She murmured to her babe. "Some of our people are whispering that you- that I might not survive bringing you into this world."

The announcement of the queen's pregnancy had been met with widespread jubilation; it was a sign of the prosperity of their union, a symbol of hope and peace between races, and a message to all of the strength of the United Northern kingdoms. But in the market streets people spoke their doubts, muttering darkly about weights and shapes and incompatible blood.

 _Too_ _different_ _._ _Too_ _fragile_ _._

She bit her lip. "Your Adad is trying so hard to pretend that he hadn't heard them; to be strong for us. And I'm trying too, but I just wish that he would talk to me about this because - because I'm scared that they might be right." She swallowed thickly. "I don't want to lose either of you. To miss out on even one second of our life together when I already know that I'm going to miss so much." She looked down to where her child lay protected beneath her skin, and her heart seized with a fierce and desperate longing. "But when the time does come and I'm not there, he's is going to need you to take care of him. Just like my Da needed me. And the thing about your Adad is that he would rather keep all his pain and grief to himself than ever place the burden on someone else, and I love him for that. But that is exactly why you have to be brave and strong for him; nobody should have to do it on their own."

"What are you doing?"

Sigrid looked up.

Fíli was standing in the doorway, his face ashen, a hand that has been raised to pull the bell rope hung limp at his side.

Sigrid hurriedly wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her nightdress. "I was just telling the baby about the time that I told you that I was in labour to test how you would respond. We both agree that we need to have a serious discussion about your performance." She did her best to smile, not meeting his eyes as she looked past him through the doorway. "I thought you had gone to get your brother?"

But Fíli did not smile back. He looked broken. "Why would you say that?" He asked, stepping into the room.

"I know, I'm sorry. I told Tauriel that the test was a silly-"

"Not the test. I don't care about a test. Why would you say that you might not be here?"

The smile fell from Sigrid's face and she looked down at her hands. "I'm just being realistic." She said quietly. "We both know that there will come a time when I won't be here, and if something happens during the birth-"

"Don't say that!" Fíli strode forwards with alarming speed and raised his hands to her face. Had it been anyone else Sigrid would have flinched. But Fíli took her face in his hands and whispered fiercely. "Don't you ever say that."

"Fíli, we can't just ignore this. Everybody else can, but I need _you_ to listen to me. We both know the facts. Iknow the facts." She bowed her head. "Please don't make me face them alone."

He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. "Sigrid, it's one thing to accept our fate, but to act as if there is nothing we can do...you cannot ask that of me."

"That's not what I'm-"

But Fíli stood up abruptly, pulling his hands through his hair in anguish as he paced about the room. "I don't understand, Sigrid! We can talk to Oín and see what he says, we'll talk to Tauriel and my mother, we'll search the old records for answers, and if I have to call upon every healer in the land, I will do it. I'll do anything."

"Then stop fighting me!" Sigrid cried out.

He stared at her, stunned. Sigrid rarely shouted. She had a stare that could make any man, dwarf, or child quake in the wrath of its reproach, but she rarely shouted.

He swallowed. "I'm not fighting you."

"Then stop fighting yourself." She pleaded tiredly. "I have Oín and Tauriel and your mother to tell me that everything will be fine. I need you to tell me how you feel, please. Because I feel like I'm the only one who is scared."

Fíli turned back to her, and this time when he stepped towards her there was such tenderness and sorrow in his eyes as he took her face in his hands. "Of course I am scared, my love. I'm terrified about what might happened, and every time I'm reminded that your life is flying by faster than mine ever could, I want to shout at the Valar for giving us such a curse. And no matter what you say, I won't stop fighting it. But I promise you this," And he leant forwards, his mouth on hers, whispering the words against her lips. "You are not alone in this."

A part of her wanted to hate him for his refusal to see what she saw. A part of her loved him for refusing to see what she saw. But every single bone in her body knew that although they saw things in different ways, they would face them together as best they could. So when Sigrid could stand it no more, she broke what little distance remained between them, and captured his mouth in hers with desperate abandon.

Fíli held her face in his hands and buried himself inside of her, as if he needed a part of her air to breath himself. There were moments when it seemed that she was fighting him to win some sort of control, as her hands found their way into his hair and held on tight. There were moments when he wanted to let her, as his mouth moved to the hollow of her throat and she whispered his name.

Until Sigrid pulled away with a gasp, holding her stomach.

"Sigrid? What's wrong?" Fíli anxiously searched her face for a sign of pain or alarm.

Her eyes were wide as her fingers spread, searching, across her belly.

"Sigrid!" He repeated, more urgently this time.

Wordlessly, she took his hand and guided it to where hers had been.

"Sigrid, what-"

"Shhhh"

He lets his hand relax against the firm skin of his wife's round belly. And then he felt it. A small but determined movement beneath his fingers.

"Is that-?"

"Yes."

Sigrid watched as his face split into a grin. The excitement in his eyes, the pure joy, the hope, made her heart swell. It was a thousand times more exquisite than sleepy contentment.

Fíli chuckled proudly as the babe kicked again. "She's strong."

"She is part dwarf." Sigrid reasoned.

"True, but that's not what I meant."

There was another of the little flutterings and Sigrid smiled despite herself at the strangeness of the sensation. This must be what it felt like to have minuscule wings beating inside of you.

Fíli looked up from her stomach. "Sigrid?"

"Yes."

"Did I pass your test?"

This time Sigrid couldn't help but laugh as she regarded him with fond exasperation. "Oh my love, you failed miserably."

Fíli spluttered. "I was on my way back to ring for Oín. I had everything under control!"

Sigrid rolled her eyes. "Fíli, if it was down to you, your brother would be the one delivering our child."

" _That_ was an error of judgement. But if you had given me some warning-"

"There might not be any warning when it really is time!"

When Fíli continued to frown petulantly, Sigrid reached for his hand and squeezed it. "I'll make you a deal; I won't play this trick on you again if you promise me that when it really is time to deliver this child, your brother won't be in the room."

Fíli snorted begrudgingly. "I certainly won't fight you on that." Then a thought struck him and his eyes glinted mischievously. "Perhaps we ought to test a few other people; maybe Dwalin or Thorin? Just to make sure everyone is prepared."

Sigrid pretended to look scandalized. "My King, are you proposing that we willfully deceive our kin for sport?"

"You didn't seem to have a problem with willfully deceiving me earlier this morning."

"Yes, but that is because I am your Queen and your wife; there is a difference."

Fíli smirked. He loved that about his wife. It was something that many people missed or didn't take the time to see. Sometimes he didn't think that she saw it in herself. But she was strong, his wife; his queen.

"Speaking of which, I'm issuing a decree." Sigrid sat up straighter, as best she could, and adopted the imperious tone she reserved for council meetings. "There is to be no more sleeping with weapons of any sort under our pillows in this bed. Ever."

When Fíli looked confused, Sigrid lifted up the pillow beside her, the one upon which her husband's sleeping head had rested until recently. Beneath it lay the dragon tooth dagger; Fang. She held it up, eyebrows raised.

He had the decency to look contrite.

Suddenly there was a knocking sound. Fíli and Sigrid looked up to see an attendant in the servant livery standing nervously at their door.

Following the attendant's gaze, Sigrid calmly placed the dagger back on the pillow.

"Breakfast is being served in the dining halls, My King, My Queen."

"Thank you, Narvi. We will be along in a moment." Sigrid smiled pleasantly.

Narvi left, peering curiously back at them over his shoulder.

After deliberately placing the dagger beside the water jug Fíli fell back onto his pillows in protest.

"Look on the bright side; at least you are already dressed". Sigrid suggested.

Fíli groaned into his pillows.

Sigrid smiled.

Maybe they could stay there and pretend that the world beyond their doors would continue without them. But they both knew they would be lying to themselves.

So Sigrid began to go through the motions of swiveling herself around and pushing herself up from the bed. But as she did she felt another fluttering sensation.

She rested a hand on her belly and paused for a moment.

She might be a queen now, but Sigrid had been raised on the docks of Laketown amongst bargemen and fishwives who believed in a prophecy that one day a King would return to the Mountain to reclaim his throne. So she decided to take that little determined movement as an omen that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright after all.

That was the rhythm that pounded through the heart of the Queen of Erebor; hope. And although it was tinged with fear and uncertainty, for that it was no less strong.


End file.
